He Remembers
by Phoebsfan
Summary: Well it's about time...I made this birthday wish four years ago. Skate.


He Remembers

----

She didn't remember him. Of that he was sure.

It had been awhile, they'd only shared a few drinks.

Had to have been almost four years.

But he remembered her.

He always remembered the ones who got away.

It had been raining, cold and damp. He was between jobs and feeling restless, so he'd headed down to the local bar to get wasted.

He'd only been sitting there for a few minutes when she'd walked in. All wide eyed and scared.

He had let her drown her sorrows alone for awhile. Drinking like there was no point in having a tomorrow. Watched as she'd turned guy after guy down. Knew she wanted to be alone.

Hell he knew the feeling.

So he'd planned on leaving her alone. Planned on letting her drink herself silly and watching the show. Watched as each glass pressed against her full bottom lip. Pretended to know her story.

She was running from something, that much was certain. She didn't take her eye of the door for long, knew her exits from the moment she walked in. Her eyes, cold and untrusting. He wondered what it would take to melt her.

How much charm would he have to use before she was pressing that bottom lip to his? How long before he could get her in his bed?

Women were easy, you just had to know which buttons to push. And he suddenly very much wanted to press hers.

Her tight green shirt would look great on his floor next to those denims.

So he let himself stare. Let himself undress her in his mind. Questioned whether or not he wanted to make it real.

She finally looked over at him and it answered his question. She tipped another back and he wondered how well she held her drink. He hoped she was still up for it.

Slipping into the seat beside her he played as if she wasn't even there. Let her start the conversation. Make it her idea.

"Can I help you with something?" She finally asked. Her green eyes meeting his. Her dark curly hair fell around her face, hiding her features.

He wanted nothing more than to feel it wrapped in his hands.

"Just having a drink. You want one?" He smirked.

"Got one. Thanks." And then she was silent. No doubt letting her thoughts claim her full attention again.

He shifted in his seat. She flicked a peanut shell across the bar.

A man approached from the other side.

"Can I buy you a drink sweetheart?" He asked, looking at her chest the whole time.

Pig.

"I don't think so." He answered for her. Oddly territorial. She chuckled.

"I'm Katie. Thanks for..."

"James. It's no problem."

He still doesn't know why he told her that.

He credits it to the fact that he was drunk. That maybe for one night he didn't really want to be Sawyer.

He just knew that he didn't want to take her home and forget it happened in the morning. Just knew that as much as he wanted those soft hands all over him, he didn't want to pretend that she didn't touch him somewhere deeper.

It was stupid. But somehow he felt like she could break him apart if she wanted to. Even then.

"So. Who are we drinking to?" He asked and when she looked at him, knew that it wasn't the right question. Her eyes, so heartbroken.

"Wayne. Let's drink to Wayne." He held his glass up and waited for her to do the same.

"To Wayne. Good riddance." She smiled again, but it wasn't convincing. She seemed to match his mood completely. Maybe he would take her home after all.

He was in the mood for some punishment. Her voice wrapped around his real name would do nicely.

He slid his hand over, let it rest next to hers on the bar.

"Who are you running from?" She asked. He gave her a lopsided grin.

"Freckles, who am I not running from?"

"Amen to that." She was so young. She should have been spending her night at some frat party, not a bar with a bunch of losers like him. Guys who only wanted to screw her and leave her in the morning.

He smiled to himself, like a frat party would be any different.

At least the guys hitting on her there wouldn't be as old as her father.

"How old are you anyway?" He asked. Wondering for a moment if she was even old enough to be here.

"Old enough. Why you starting to feel like a perverted old man?"

"Got awhile to go before that sweet cheeks."

And so they'd talked. He'd tried to get up the nerve to make a move and then she'd say something and he wouldn't want her anymore. Wouldn't want to hurt her.

Maybe he'd just enjoyed punishing himself with the idea. Every time she laughed, her smile not quite reaching it's full potential. Every time she smiled, tears in her eyes. It was like looking in a damn mirror. She looked as hollow as he felt.

Last call and then she was gone.

He'd gone back for awhile afterward. Not really expecting to see her. Figuring she'd moved on. Wondering what she'd done.

Until out of the blue he crashes on some tropical island with her.

He's certain she doesn't remember.

But he does.

---

She wonders sometimes.

Why he seems so familiar to her?

She can recall his voice in the back of her mind, it's insistent and yet never quite pushes through to tell her where they've met before.

She knows she has met him before.

It's the only thing that makes sense.

It isn't until he tells her. He's been waiting for four years.

And it hits her.

She wonders why she didn't remember earlier. But then she thinks that everything about that night, the week that followed is blurry.

She'd just blown up her father. Given her mother the insurance papers and ridden out of town. It had only been a week.

It had been a week and she still couldn't get her mother's face out of her mind, still things seemed unreal.

She'd done the right thing. Of course she had.

But it felt like some cosmic finger was pointing her out.

So she'd decided to get wasted in some hick bar, in some hick town. Felt like home.

She didn't remember much about the guys who approached her, too busy wondering where she'd go next.

It wasn't until he sat down next to her that she felt...

To this day she doesn't know what she felt. Something... Maybe.

She'd told him her name was Katie. Only Tom and her mother ever called her that. She'd always been Kathryn or Kate. But she'd found herself telling some complete stranger she was Katie.

He had called himself James.

She wonders if he had changed his name to Sawyer by then. Questions why she hopes that he had. Questions why she wants to think that what he said to her had been special. Rare.

They'd drunk to Wayne. Good riddance, he'd offered. How perfect the sentiment had been.

She'd thought about going home with him. Had made up her mind, and had he asked she would have said yes.

But he had never asked.

She had thought he would. Had spent the last half of there conversation wondering when he was going to sneak it in. Waited until she thought she'd jump him right there. But there was nothing.

And at the end of the night they had parted ways. She'd gotten on her bike and sped off into the night. Never thinking she'd end up marooned on an island with him.

Sometimes she wishes she'd gone home with him.

Sometimes she wonders if he's ever going to make a move.

She wonders if she'll still say yes.

AN: I played with the timeline a little but Sawyer's comment about waiting four years has always bugged me. So until I get an explanation.


End file.
